


Cancer

by FatalYaoi



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil (Movieverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cancer, Fluff, M/M, Major AU, Plot What Plot, Possibly dying, cuteness, dying, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 00:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7244605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FatalYaoi/pseuds/FatalYaoi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris Redfield has been diagnosed with cancer. Albert Wesker may have a cure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cancer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [egyptiandeathgod](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=egyptiandeathgod).



"Why can't you just let me die in peace?" Chris muttered.

His head tilted down so far his neck touched his thin chest and his question was so quiet that Wesker had to strain his ears to listen. Chris' bald head had a black hood covering it as it often did after a chemotherapy session and Wesker was driving, as usual. Chris found that, especially after a session, he was unable to drive for quite some time from the sheer exhaustion.

The question lingered between the two while the cool air from the A/C blew across Chris' face. The weather was warm and, even worse, Wesker was wearing a casually black tee and black jeans. He dressed professionally more often than not but once he and Chris were alone, the blond became much more casual. He used to laugh more around Chris. He was expressive, open, and honest-

-until Chris was diagnosed.

Chris thought his life would be the only one to fall apart. He thought that the looming romance on the horizon of the two would fail and he only hoped Claire wouldn't come to his rescue, though part of him did hope she would at least visit after the diagnosis. Instead, he hadn't seen Claire in four months and Wesker never left him.

Chris was still young, in his early thirties, but cancer had no age limit.

Cancer was cancer.

"I will not sit idly while you die, Christopher. I care for you far too much," Wesker responded carefully.

"That's what people do, Albert! People die and their loved ones watch. The doctor says I have hope, you know. There's always—"

Chris was caught off with a loud scoff.

"Hope? I work for the largest pharmaceutical company in the world, Chris. Let me help you. We already have something in the making. You would no longer need chemotherapy," Wesker said with mild exasperation, "Do you have a death wish?"

"Of course not, Albert. I just don't want to be your lab rat," Chris sighed, "At least let them test the damn drug."

"You are running out of time, Christopher. Testing could take months," Wesker pushed.

"I have longer than months, Albert," Chris said quietly, "I don't want this to turn into a fight."

"I simply want you to be healthy again and I believe I can do this, Christopher. Give me this opportunity," Wesker pushed again.

"I have longer than a few months. Let them test this 'progenitor' thing. Please," Chris asked.

Little did the former brunet know, he certainly did not have longer than a few months. In just a short period of three months, Chris Redfield was hospitalized with a close watch of many doctors and professionals under Umbrella. His lips were constantly dry and he slept more often than he was awake. Chris reveled in the feeling of bliss that came to him every time he woke up to Wesker's face hovering in front of his because in that moment, there was no cancer; no constant pain; no hospital.

In that moment with Wesker's blue eyes meeting Chris', the two were the only ones in Chris' universe and Chris smiled.

But Wesker never smiled anymore and when the blond never smiled back and the sound of his heart monitor beeping would fade back into existence and Chris could hear the nurses rushing passed his room and various shouting from other rooms-- well, that was when Chris would be pulled right back into his own hell of a reality.

He would never hit remission.

He would never hit thirty-five.

So his smile would fade and his hand in Wesker's would tighten and Chris would sigh.

"The progenitor would no longer help you," Wesker once explained to Chris.

Apparently, it wasn't a strong enough virus to handle the now progressed cancer. If Chris wanted that option, then Wesker would have to use something that was created and known as the 'Tyrant Project' to the researchers. Chris never asked for further details but Wesker gave them occasionally as they made breakthrough after breakthrough with the upgraded virus. Wesker worked his team day in and day out to make it perfect and it was nearing perfection—all while Wesker remained beside Chris.

"What if I said yes?" Chris asked through a raspy, weak voice.

"You would never be the same, Christopher. You would be transformed into something better. Your body would bond with the progenitor cells as it has been designed to and, once the mutation began we would keep it under control with regular injections to avoid a complete mutation. If you choose this, Christopher, you must _never_ miss an injection as it would be fatal," Wesker explained.

"Would it be painful?" Chris asked.

"Yes, but only for a short amount of time."

"I'm already in pain, Albert. It's neverending and I don't think I'm strong enough, anymore. I'm slipping," Chris whispered, staring up at the blond, "I'm ready."

Albert Wesker nodded and released Chris' hand. He closed the door of the hospital room and walked to his coat where he pulled a syringe out of the pocket. He then pulled a second syringe out of the opposite pocket. Chris said nothing as the blond had surprised him before with much more impressive and strange things.

Chris wondered if Wesker would smile at him again, like before.

Not the sad, fake smile that he saw occasionally.

No. Never that.

The true, genuine smile that usually accompanied a quiet, dark chuckle that Chris enjoyed so much to hear.

Wesker popped the lid off of one of the needles and inserted it into the IV line. Chris watched the blonde's steady hand and a mix of fear and excitement overcame him.

He could live, he realized.

But as he lay there with Wesker's hand in his and the beginnings of a strange tingling, he thought of all the lost lives. Cancer had claimed so many, yet, here he was able to be cured with a simple injection. It wasn't fair for the countless children on the hospital floor below his to be dying while he was just told he could live—that he would live.

The thoughts were cut off once the shooting pains began. The veins in his arms and legs began to pulse slightly then angrily. His blood felt like it was thickening and he was sure his heart was slowing down despite his deafening heart rate pumping in his ear. He gritted his teeth and squeezed Wesker's hand. He was holding onto the one person that was getting through this with him—the only one who hadn't left him.

"Tell me I'm going to be okay," Chris gritted out through the loud beeping heart monitor to his left, "Please," he begged.

"You'll be alright, Christopher," Wesker said, the calming voice washing over Chris' tense body almost at once.

But then the pain hardened and Chris could feel his body convulsing and he was sure his screams were no longer being muffled however he couldn't be sure because, in all honestly, he couldn't remember.

By the time he came to, the second syringe was no longer in Wesker's hand. Chris realized in a split moment of looking around at all of the doctors and nurses that had run in—he felt different. Of course, the brunet was drained from the experience he just encountered but he wasn't drained of all life; instead, he just felt tired.

The people surrounding him were all Umbrella doctors, though, and that's why he didn't know the physical change that occurred, at first.

Nobody bothered to tell him.

It took several days, in fact, to realize he had become bulkier. His previously thin body was quickly transformed into a wider, muscular form. His hair had already begun to grow back and it was thick and full and absolutely not blotchy as before. His veins were also much more noticeable around his forearms and his lower legs. The most noticeable change, however, were the fact that his eyes. The cornea was slit vertically and the color of Chris' eyes was now a deep red-orange.

Chris only ever asked to see some of the notes from the project once and he cringed at the first few beings created from the injections. As Wesker carefully reminded him, forgetting an injection would result in that. After that moment, however, Chris never asked again.

Quietly, he entertained the idea of spreading the cure—his cure—but dismissed it as he worried what would happen if someone missed an injection. He knew, eventually, the project would be perfected and an injection would no longer be needed and once that happened, the brunet would definitely push the idea.

For now, Chris enjoyed the increased speed and durability. He could go several days without sleep and would often forget to eat. Chris was stronger and able to do more productive things with his time, which he longed for after being stuck in the hospital for so long.

He often thought back to the night he asked Wesker the question that had plagued him since the transformation.

"Do my eyes bother you, Albert?"

The two were lying in bed. Chris had been playing on his phone absentmindedly while Albert read—a nightly ritual until Chris interrupted.

"Of course not. They are a mild reminder of what happened however, Christopher, I love you. I understood the risks and they were minimal compared to losing you," Albert assured, peering towards him, "Do not worry yourself over such a trivial thing, please."

And then Albert smiled.

So Chris didn't worry.

Sure, Chris Redfield now classified as a Tyrant through Umbrella but he was alive.

Chris Redfield was alive.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt given to me by egyptiandeathgod from Tumblr. The exact prompt was 'Chris has cancer. Wesker is trying to make him into a tyrant.' I could have gone a much darker route with this but I chose against it.


End file.
